


Doors on Helios

by Caffeinated_Owlbear



Series: Crush [4]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Equinophobia aka Meg Is Scared of Horses, Established Relationship, F/M, Flirting, Hyperion CEO Handsome Jack (Borderlands), Hyperion Corporate Shenanigans, I Know It Says OC But That's What Meg Is Basically, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Jack being Jack, Mention of (Highly) Disrespectful Treatment of Human Remains, NOT a Domestic AU, Rarepair, References to Canon-Typical Violence, Timeline In Which Meg Will Be Jack's Second Wife, fluff adjacent, jokes about necrophilia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:07:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25009690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffeinated_Owlbear/pseuds/Caffeinated_Owlbear
Summary: Walking through a door to the unknown on Helios, after being invited to do so by Handsome Jack, sounds like straight-up suicide. To say nothing of walking through doors hehasn'tinvited you to open...====This is the story of Handsome Jack's second marriage.
Relationships: Handsome Jack (Borderlands)/Original Female Character(s), Handsome Jack/Meg (Borderlands)
Series: Crush [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1792126
Kudos: 6





	Doors on Helios

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is set in a timeline where Meg the PA becomes Jack's second wife. Each chapter will explore a certain point in their relationship. By the start of this chapter, they will have been dating for a few weeks. To see how it all began, do explore the [second](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24710794) and [third](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24778618) fics in this series.
> 
> Time-wise, this is set between TPS and BL2. You can consider it AU-ish, because we know next to nothing about Jack's second wife, so why can't she be Meg? And if you're wondering where Nisha is during this time, the answer is - both before Meg and after.
> 
> Also, I know that based on Jack's ECHO transmissions in-game, it's suggested that he got Butt Stallion at the start of Borderlands 2, but I don't care.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Meg meets Butt Stallion.

Meg loves Helios. Always has. In her three years aboard the station, she’s explored every area that’s ever been open to the public - and then, when she thought it couldn’t get any better, she ended up on the legal team negotiating the insurance policy taken out on Helios, which came with a whole lot of opportunities to learn about the station’s inner workings. As a result, she’s pretty sure she already knew more about Helios than most Hyperion employees even _before_ becoming Jack’s P.A. And once she was in _that_ position, being party to most secrets on Helios has become literally part of her job description.

And now, apparently, being Jack’s- Oh god, what _is_ she to him right now? Girlfriend, probably? Meg has never liked the word; it makes her feel like she’s an awkward teenager, not a professional in her mid-30s. Plus, calling yourself a man’s girlfriend suggests that the man in question should be referred to as ‘boyfriend’. 

_This is Handsome Jack, my boyfriend_. Cue hysterical laughter of everyone involved. Followed by Jack and Meg’s mutual agreement that this was too embarrassing for the both of them, and it’s best for everyone Meg just goes and airlocks herself now.

Anyway. Now that she is _with Jack_ , let’s just put it that way, apparently, there’s another part of Helios that she’s going to be introduced to. And some _one_ in that part of Helios that, Jack, apparently, wants her to meet. That’s what he said. That’s _all_ he said on the matter, actually.

_Come on, Megs. I want you to meet someone._

They’re close to one of the tops of the H, where the whole penthouse area is off-limits to anyone without Jack’s personal authorization. Meg has been here before, but she never had a reason to stray from the beeline from the private elevator to Jack’s apartment: whether she was dropping off some delivery from R&D that was too high-priority to entrust to a loader; or checking up on Jack if he wasn’t back in his office after leaving with a migraine the previous day; or stumbling backwards from the elevator with Jack’s mouth on hers, her hands in Jack’s hair, and Jack’s hands already under her clothes.

This time, though, they take a left from the elevator, and follow a short corridor that ends in an unexpectedly large door.

Jack waves a keycard at the lock and gestures as the door slides open.

“After you, sugar,” he says with a wink.

Meg spares him a moment’s glance and goes in. Walking through a door to the unknown on Helios isn’t exactly a recipe for longevity. Doing so after being specifically invited to by Handsome Jack sounds like straight-up suicide. But Meg knows for a fact that if Jack wanted to kill her, he could do that at any moment. And she likes to think that Jack likes her enough that if he _did_ decide to kill her, it’d be quick, maybe so quick she wouldn’t even know.

She walks through the door, and hears Jack walk in behind her. The room they’re in is huge, bigger than Jack’s office, albeit with lower ceilings. No windows, but plenty of light, not the fluorescent default of the labs and corridors, but a warmer yellow, like in the Hub of Heroism. The floor is artificial grass, high enough quality to pass for real. Maybe actually real.

“What is this place?” Meg asks. Jack grins.

“What’s it look like?”

“A lawn? A meadow?” Meg’s eyes are drawn to a low fence running perpendicular to the wall. “A paddock?”

“Took you long enough.”

Jack walks forward. Meg follows, keeping her questions to herself. Paddock suggests horses. That seems normal enough. Sure, they’re in space, but having a horse on a space station wouldn’t even be in the top three weirdest things Jack’s done this month. In fact, now that Meg gets to see more of him, that probably wouldn’t even count among the three weirdest things he’s done _today_.

Meg is enjoying the feel of possibly-real grass under her shoes, and doesn’t notice the horse right away. When she does, the animal is close enough for her to see, and _stare_ , and amend the ‘Jack’s weird shit’ rankings in her head. This one _will_ make the daily top three, maybe even the weekly. Because the horse trotting towards them across the paddock is glittering like it’s made of glass or crystal. Also, it appears to be a unicorn. With a beautiful blue mane. Braided, and with ribbons in it.

What are the chances that Jack had slipped something into her coffee before they got here?

“There we go, Megs. Meet my pony,” Jack says, holding his hand out for the… creature to nuzzle with its nose. “Her name’s Butt Stallion.”

 _Her_ name is Butt _Stallion_ , Meg notes, silently. Then again, compared to the rest of it, this is barely unusual.

“Sorry if I sound slow there for a moment, Jack. I just want to make sure I’m not on drugs or anything. I _am_ looking at a crystal unicorn, right?”

“A _crystal unicorn_ ? Are you freaking kidding me right now?” Jack snorts. For a moment, Meg is actually relieved, though she’ll need to make it clear to Jack that she’s not down with getting drugged without her knowledge and consent. Then Jack continues. “It’s not a _crystal unicorn_ , Megs. It’s a _diamond pony_.”

Oh. Okay.

“Of... course.” Meg reaches out, tentatively. She still can’t help but expect her fingers to find thin air, and for Jack to burst out into a ridiculous laugh, pausing only to breathlessly comment along the lines of ‘oh GOD, Megs, you should’ve seen your FACE’ and ‘ahahahah, diamond pony, you totally went along with that, didn’t ya, freaking priceless’, etcetera.

Meg’s fingers brush the horse’s flank. It’s hard, but not cold. And it’s definitely real. She pulls her fingers away.

“What’d you think, Megs?” Jack says, scratching the horse behind the ears. It doesn’t quite sound like nails on a chalkboard: just that little bit less grating, like someone dragging a nail up and down a porcelain plate.

Does diamond get itchy, Meg wonders. Or does, uh, Butt Stallion just like being scratched? Based on the way she’s sticking her face over Jack’s shoulder and offering her ears to his hands, probably. 

“Well, come on and say something already.” All amusement is suddenly drained from Jack’s voice. He glares at Meg over the top of the horse’s head. “What, you don’t like her?”

Meg stops her breath hitching as she meets Jack’s glare. It’s a well-practiced move for her; if she let herself feel scared of Jack every time she really, _really_ should be, she’d never get any work done.

She smiles. “She’s _stunning_ , Jack.”

“I know, right!” Jack smiles back at her, hugely, all shadow gone from his face and voice as fast as it had appeared. “Come on, I’m gonna show you her stable.”

They move across the paddock, Jack’s hand resting on the back of the horse’s neck as they walk. The stable, tucked away to the side, is mostly three walls and a ceiling, but artfully put together: hardwood from Eden-6, space-grade titanium alloy and carbon fiber, Jack tells her. The main colors, of course, are Hyperion yellow and black, but there’s some form of bed-like cushioned arrangement in the corner in a blue that matches Butt Stallion’s mane.

“Hand me that brush, will you, Megs?” Jack points at a small collection of implements hanging from hooks on a wall. The brush in question is a flat oval pad, a handle on one side, a collection of very soft bristles on the other. Meg watches as Jack runs the brush over Butt Stallion’s neck and flanks, murmuring some nonsense about ‘the prettiest pony in six galaxies.’

Nope, thinks Meg. Still not convinced she _isn’t_ on drugs right now.

She watches silently as Jack brushes (polishes?) the horse, takes the brush back from him as he hands it over, then takes the comb off the wall for his next request. All of the implements, Meg notes, are also in the blue color scheme.

“So is there a species of diamond ponies, on some planet somewhere?” she asks. “Or did you have her made special?”

“Made special, totally. Butt Stallion’s one of a kind. Aren’t you, Butt Stallion?” Jack coos as he undoes the braids in the blue mane and starts combing. “But yeah, it’s a funny story, actually…”

Jack moves to the other side of the horse so he faces Meg again, and flips the mane over to his side. He talks without even looking at his hands or the comb.

“So this was pretty soon after I took over Hyperion. Like, soon-soon. Like, ‘folks still not sure what to do about all that Tassiter around’ soon.”

Meg frowns. “Wait. If you were already CEO, Tassiter couldn’t have been around.”

“Oh, I don’t mean around, as in, hanging around Helios- well, I mean, technically, he _was_ around Helios. I had his corpse stuffed full of explosives and launched into the debris field. Turned out a miscalculation, actually, ‘cause that geezer drifted there for _days_ till some piece of junk finally smacked into him hard enough to make him pop. Disappointing to the end, that’s Tassiter for ya…” Jack shakes his head. “Ah well, at least I got to have fun with his corpse for a few weeks before that.”

Nope, thinks Meg. Blowing _right_ past that. She will _not_ be asking any questions. She will not even be _thinking_ any questions. Not anything composed of actual words and sentences.

For all her intentions, something must still show in her face, because Jack cocks an eyebrow at her, then gives her a look of pure disgust.

“ _Ewww_ , Megs! What are you- Oh frick, what, you’re thinking I fucked him or something? Uggh, gross, how can you even- urp, I think I just threw up in my mouth a little.” Jack gives off an exaggerated shudder. “No, you weirdo, by ‘having fun’ I mean, I had Tassiter’s corpse taken down to R&D so they’d work some magic to slow down the decomposition process, not to preserve him or anything, he’d still decompose, but at, like, one-tenth of the usual rate. And then I had him propped up all over Helios to freak people out.

“Like, imagine you’re calling the elevator, the doors open and - boom, dead Tassiter! Or you’re some mook in Accounting, working late, it’s just you and some bloke a few cubicles away, so you pass him on your way to get coffee and - boom, dead Tassiter! Or, or, my favorite… Like, we’ve got a dude walking into a bathroom, and he sees there’s a guy at one of the urinals, so he goes to use the next free one, and it’s not exactly a time and place to socialize, bu-u-ut _something_ about that other guy looks just that little bit off, so our guy takes a closer look and - BOOM! It’s Tassiter, still dead and with his dick out, and by then, he’s not doing anything for the smell in that bathroom, either. 

“That’s what I mean by ‘having fun with his corpse’. Not whatever gross stuff you’re imagining, you sick, sick woman. Hold this bobble for me, will ya.”

Meg reaches out over Butt Stallion and takes a purple bobble from Jack’s hand. It has a little bow on it.

“Anyway,” Jack continues, teasing a tangle out of Butt Stallion’s mane, “back in the day, I was whacked out of my head most of the time.”

“As opposed to your current clean living lifestyle?” After holding back far too many questions and comments over the past fifteen minutes, Meg couldn’t have stopped herself for anything.

Jack rolls his eyes. “First you think I go around fucking corpses for fun, and now you’re getting on my case about some bourbon and chair dopamines? Make up your goddamn _mind_ , Megan, are you a sicko or a square?”

A square, Meg thinks. That _is_ an accurate way to describe someone who spent the previous weekend in the CEO’s office with the CEO in question, both of them butt naked and taking turns to be sprawled all over the aforementioned chair to enjoy so many other fun drugs that piece of furniture had to offer, in addition to the dopamines.

 _Yes, I’m such a square, Jack. I’ve no idea why you’d_ ever _want to do_ anything _with me._

Were they anywhere else on Helios right now, Meg would say exactly that, and she knows exactly how she’d pitch her voice, what kind of smile she would give him, and how many seconds after that her back would be pressed against the nearest surface and her legs wrapped around Jack’s waist. Right now, however, she still doesn’t know how she feels about having sex in the presence of a diamond pony, so she goes for the lighter option. 

“Hmm… I guess I’m just enough of both to do my job well and still have fun. Weren’t you telling me a story?”

“Yeah, but you just keep _interrupting_. Where was I?”

“Newly in charge of Hyperion and constantly on drugs.”

“Yeah, that’s the one. I was always jacked on something or other- hah, jacked, didn’t even intend that one. And no reason I wouldn’t be, right: it’s like, pressures of leadership, never-ending to-do list, that thing in my face hurting like a motherfuck every goddamn second while it decides if it’s _actually_ gonna kill me, and don’t even get me started on balancing R&D budgets. You know, your classic high-powered CEO stuff. Couldn’t get a PA worth a damn, either.”

“Too bad I wasn’t on Helios yet, huh?”

“Yeah... Then again, back in the day, I probably would’ve shot you for looking at me the wrong way. Or _thinking_ you were looking at me the wrong way. Or maybe you _weren’t_ looking at me at all, but I thought you should’ve been. Point is, maybe it’s a good thing you weren’t on Helios at the time.”

In other words, Meg thinks, what Jack is saying is that he’s glad they weren’t in a situation where he would have a reason and/or opportunity to kill her. This really _shouldn’t_ feel like a low-key declaration of love, or make a bloom of warmth spread through her chest. And yet.

“Anyway. That was the setup. Now, the actual story. We open on Handsome Jack in his office. One of the lower-key mornings, meaning that aside from the usual coffee-bourbon-dopamine shtick, I’m only running on enough painkillers to function. Not my favorite kinda morning, but you gotta mix it up now and again, right. And based on the fact that I’ve already run Hyperion into the freaking _sky_ while ten percent lucid at best, I _know_ I’m a genius, but, like, I still like to check in with myself now and then. Gahd, Butt Stallion, how the _frick_ do you get your mane so tangled… Come over here, Megs, I’m gonna need both hands for this.”

Meg walks around the horse to be on the same side as Jack. He places a whole handful of bobbles into one of her hands, presses the comb into the other. With both his hands free, he runs his fingers through mane, slowly, until they find another tangle. Butt Stallion harrumphs softly.

“Easy there, girl,” Jack shushes, working his way through a tangle of blue hair. Meg watches his hands, almost mesmerized. It’s not like she hasn’t seen Jack being careful. In fact, if there’s something he believes important enough to get hands-on with, then nine times out of ten and for the exact duration of his work, he’d be care and patience personified; and seeing Jack in that silently single-minded state would always go straight to Meg’s head and knees, just as much as watching him in power.

This, though, thinks Meg, is a whole different level. Butt Stallion, this weird - yes, beautiful, but _so_ weird - creature isn’t just something that Jack decided to give his attention to. He… he actually loves this horse, doesn’t he. 

And it’s not like Jack doesn’t love things. He loves his office, in that specific way you love a place that’s part of who you are. He loves Hyperion, in that specific way you love a thing that wouldn’t be what it is without you. And he loves Helios. _God_ , does he love Helios. Of all the people on board, he must be the only one who loves Helios more than Meg does.

So it’s not like Jack doesn’t love. But loving _living_ things, even for a given value of living? Meg never thought that was something that featured in Handsome Jack’s repertoire, or his world in general.

“So there I am,” Jack continues, “going over the results of the last few days, making some notes to self. Like, gotta watch the footage from that Jacobs negotiation, to find out what the _hell_ I did to make them agree to those terms, and keep that in mind for future deals. Authorize severance payouts to nineteen accountants’ families, whoops, that’s eighteen more than planned, ah well, follow-up note to self, tell HR to hire some new ones. Follow-up on the follow-up: try to stay away from HR at all costs, ‘cause re-hiring human resources without a department made specifically to manage human resources, that’s about as much fun as trying to open a box with a crowbar that’s inside it. Word to the wise, Megs, you ever wanna ensure your survival in a company, any company, HR’s where it’s at.” 

Jack separates a couple of strands of Butt Stallion’s mane and starts braiding them.

“So then my communicator goes off. _Mr. Handsome Jack, sir, there’s a delivery for you in loading dock three._ And I’m like - yeah, sure, it’s probably marked for my attention, but it’s for a specific _department_ , genius, find out which and they’ll take it. And they’re like - _I’m sorry, sir, it’s addressed to you personally, and they want your signature._ Any other day, I’d probably tell them to space the delivery dudes, space the actual delivery, and also space the fucking train wreck of a PA telling me to drag my ass all the way to loading dock three. But okay, now I’m kinda curious, and I decide I wanna stretch my legs. So off I go to loading dock three.”

“Did you stop to space the PA on the way?” Meg asks. Jack snorts.

“Wasn’t there when I went past their desk. So maybe not a _complete_ idiot after all. Anyway, I make it to loading dock three, there’s a huge-ass box sitting there. Security tells me they’ve scanned it, no bombs or toxins or anything, but there’s life signs. Something alive’s in there. Unidentified, but definitely alive. Delivery guy hands me the manifest to sign, and you know me, Megs, I’ll never sign anything without reading it.”

“Really?” Meg frowns. “You must be the fastest reader who ever lived, because at least half of the paperwork I hand you, you sign and toss back at me within two seconds.”

“Yeah, the paperwork _you_ hand me, that’s different. So the manifest says: _one (1) pony; material: diamonds; answers to: Butt Stallion._ And I look up at the delivery guy, like, is this a fucking joke? Like, who put you up to this? Henderson? Couldn’t have been, the guy wouldn’t know a punchline if it hit him in the face. Blake? He’s just weird enough for something like that.” Jack holds out a hand. “Bobble.”

“Huh?”

“ _Bobble_ , Megs.” Jack snatches one of the purple bobbles with the bow on it from her hand and ties the end of a braid in Butt Stallion’s mane, then separates some hair strands for the next one. “And the delivery guy is all, _sir, can you please sign it, I’m on the clock_. So I’m, like, whatever, here’s a signature, now get out of my face. Off he goes. And then there’s just me and a buncha goons from security, and the box. Might as well open it, right. Bobble.”

This time, Meg remembers herself in time to hand the next bobble over without being asked twice. The second braid in the horse’s mane is just as neat as the first. Here’s another thing she’s never imagined was a feature in Handsome Jack’s world. Braiding hair. Then again, he had clearly put in some effort into learning how to take care of a horse, diamond or not. Meg stifles a smile imagining Jack watching video tutorials on ECHOnet.

“So, yeah. We open the box. And… it’s exactly what it says on the manifest. One pony, made of diamonds. Which I’d ordered, apparently, ‘cause the manifest says bought and paid for. Fuck me if I remember how and why I decided I wanted a diamond pony, but hey, pretty sick statue, right? And then she _moves_ , and-” Jack laughs, and Meg can’t help but think it looks weird, because his mouth is wide open, and his laughter _should_ be loud enough to fill the room and bounce off the ceiling, but it’s muted, like he’s keeping the volume down on purpose. “And I just jump back, like, what the FUCK, and I swear to god, Megs, I would’ve fallen on my ass right there, if I hadn’t crashed into one of the security blokes behind me. I mean, yeah, they said ‘life signs’, but I’d forgotten all about it by then. All I know is that there’s a freaking diamond statue, and it’s _trotting_ at me.”

Meg holds out the next bobble before being asked.

“Thanks, babe. Then I remember the thing from the manifest. _Answers to: Butt Stallion._ So, like, okay. I say the name. And she stops, like, right in front of my face. And then she boops me.”

“Sorry, she what?” Meg blinks.

“You work for one of the biggest companies in the known universe, Meg, how do you not know the most basic freaking things? Look.” Jack lifts a hand. “My hand is her nose. Your face is my face.” He taps the flat of his palm against Meg’s nose. “That’s a boop. You learned something new today. Except it’s like, way nicer when she does that. She’s got the softest freaking nose. Don’t you, Butt Stallion? You gonna let Meg here touch your nose? Of course you are. Go on, touch her nose, Megs.”

“Uh. I’m good.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Jack frowns at her. “Do it.”

“No, I’m _really_ good. Honest.” Meg takes a step back. Jack follows and grabs her wrist.

“Come _on_!” He pulls her back to be closer to the horse, yanking her hand to be inches away from the shiny diamond face. “Feel how soft it is!”

Meg wants to wrench her hand away, but all she can do is stand there frozen, her wrist locked in Jack’s grasp so hard it hurts. Her breathing is shallow. 

“Touch her freaking NOSE, Megan.”

She stares at Jack’s face, confused and increasingly irate, then at her hand, an inch away from Butt Stallion’s allegedly soft nose (which is ridiculous, it can’t be soft, it’s made of freaking diamonds, Jack!), then at Jack’s face again. Then she closes her eyes, and waits for Jack to force her hand onto the horse’s nose so it would just be over.

A few seconds pass with nothing happening. Is he just torturing her now? _Just fucking do it already, Jack_. 

Meg feels the grip on her wrist relax, and jerks her hand away at once. It takes her a few more seconds to bring herself to open her eyes, because, oh _god_ , Jack is going to be _so_ pissed at her, and she doesn’t _want_ to get into a screaming match with him right now.

When she does open her eyes, Jack is still standing close and watches her, head tilted to the side. There’s a scowl on his face, and his eyebrows are drawn together, but there’s much less anger in his glare than Meg had expected. Something else is lurking behind his eyes now. Meg has seen enough of Jack’s expressions that she hazards an educated guess. Curiosity?

“Are you… scared, Megs?” he asks. Meg takes a breath and swallows.

“Yes. I’m… scared of horses.”

“Yeah. Shitless, apparently.” Jack chuckles, some of his scowl fading away. “Heh, never seen you like this before.”

“I work for you, Jack.” Meg sighs. “Of course you’ve seen me scared.”

“Yeah, but it’s always been like, you know, sexy scared. Not this-” he gestures at her “-shaking and sobbing and-”

“I didn’t shed a single fucking tear, Jack!” Meg snaps. Whether or not she might have started crying, had Jack not let go of her when he did, is a different question, and thoroughly moot.

“Whatever.” He shrugs. “Should’ve just freaking told me, you know. Wouldn’t have brought you here.”

“I couldn’t have _told_ you I was scared of horses, Jack-”

“What, you ashamed or something?”

“-because prior to setting foot in this room, I had no idea I was going to meet a horse.”

“Oh yeah. Good point. Anyway.” Jack picks up a comb from the floor; Meg can’t remember dropping it. “Let’s get outta here. You don’t need to see her again if you don’t wanna.”

Meg follows Jack with her eyes as he walks to the wall to hang up the comb among the other assorted assorted combs and brushes. Then she turns to look at Butt Stallion again. The horse watches her with huge eyes, a blue so dark it’s almost black.

Okay, thinks Meg. It- she has just watched their exchange without getting upset. And she’s Jack’s horse, right, and she seems to be pretty happy, and not, say, shattered into a pile of small diamonds through pure anxiety. So, clearly, this one does not spook easily.

She’s good at answering to her name, Jack said. Okay.

“Hey, Butt Stallion,” Meg whispers. The horse shifts in place a tiny bit, and leans towards her. Meg roots her feet to the spot so as not to step back. “Just… don’t bite me or anything, okay,” she says, just as softly. Then she holds her hand up at Butt Stallion’s nose level, and doesn’t move it.

Her nose definitely _is_ made of diamonds, just as the rest of her. But it _is_ soft. And warm. And it doesn’t make any sense at all. And Meg _likes_ the feeling of the horse’s nose under her hand, but she also kind of hates it, because her heart is going a mile a minute, and there’s sweat behind her knees, and her mouth is bone dry.

But when she hears an intake of breath from across the room, and looks up to see Jack, and sees the look on his face morph from momentary shock to pure _delight_... it’s all worth it.

 _Is_ there anything she wouldn’t do for him, Meg wonders. For this exact look on his face, that one right there? She hopes she never has to find out.

Jack’s arm is wrapped around her shoulders as they walk across the paddock back to the door.

“So, got any pets of your own?” he asks. “Kinda figured you’d be a cat person.”

“No, more of a plant mom. Or, more like, cool plant auntie. Had a cat growing up, though, back on Eden-5.”

“No way, me too. Well, the cat part. You know I’m from Tantalus, that’s a _way_ cooler planet. So, like, how many plants you got? Aside from, you know...” Jack leaves a meaningful pause. “The _ficus_.”

Meg chuckles. “A couple…” Dozen. “Why?”

“Do they need, like, special light, temperature, sprinklers, any of that weird stuff?”

“Not really, no.” Why is he asking her this? Is faking interest in her plants his way of apologizing for earlier, or something? “Why are you so curious? Don’t tell me you actually like plants?”

“Well, I like those I can eat and/or weaponize. The rest I don’t give a shit about. Provided they don’t get in the way of me fucking a hot babe on her desk.”

Meg sighs. Jack’s never letting [the ficus thing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24778618) go, is he.

“That’s why you got me a bigger desk, isn’t it. So that the ficus wouldn’t get in the way?”

“You know it. But you know what’s even bigger than your new desk? My place. If you and your plants were there, how much do you think they’d get in the way of us?”

It takes Meg her all to keep walking instead of stopping in her tracks. Did Jack just- Did he just-

Did Handsome Jack just ask her to _move in with him_?

“I… I don’t _think_ they would...”

“And just so you know, I'm not changing the climate control settings or anything.”

“I’m sure they… they’d be very happy at whatever setting you’ve got there right now.” Meg wrestles her voice into sounding as close to her usual pitch as possible, instead of the strangled squeak it really wants to come out as. 

Get a freaking hold of yourself, woman, Meg tells herself. Except how _do_ you get a freaking hold of yourself when Handsome _Goddamn_ Jack has just asked you to move in with him and suggested _you bring your potted plants?_

“Well, ain’t _that_ just dandy.” Jack gives her a sideways glance. “I’m sure I can spare a few loaders to help you move them. Whenever you feel up to it. No rush, or anything.”

Okay, thinks Meg, her inner voice sounding borderline hysterical even to herself, if _this_ is where bringing herself to touch a horse’s nose gets her, then she should probably make a few inquiries about locating more horses.

“I’ll... see what my schedule looks like this week,” she says as she steps through the door out of the paddock and into the penthouse corridor. 

“You do that, sugar.” Jack wraps his arms around her from behind her. His lips are brushing her ear. “So tell me… What else you’re scared of? Aside from horses… and my handsome self?”

“Just horses. And I’m not scared of _you_ , Jack.”

“Not even a little bit?” Jack growls in her ear, both his hands squeezing her upper arms. Meg feels an icy hot stab all the way through her, from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes.

“Well,” she whispers back. “Maybe just a little bit.”

“Yeah.” Jack’s teeth graze her neck. “That’s what I like to hear.”

“Mmh, I can tell…” Meg breathes as she lets herself lean back against him. 

And, god help me, Meg thinks, almost absently, as Jack tilts her head back enough to lock his mouth on hers, his hands and his lips equally demanding- god help her, she likes it just as much.

**Author's Note:**

> All credit for the idea of The Chair dispensing all kinds of fun drugs in addition to the dopamines goes to imaginarykat and their awesome Rhack fic [what a lovely way to burn](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6142948).


End file.
